Secrets In My Skin
by Maddie Rose
Summary: Elethea Ambrose has become the Capitol's champion. The resistance faces a difficult choice: as Elethea continues to grow as a threat, can they risk letting her live? Finnick's resolve will be put to the ultimate test as Elethea plummets into darkness. In the end, some fights can't be won, and some people can't be who they once were. Finnick/OC.
1. Painted

**Chapter One: Painted**

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**A/N: So...welcome to the third story of Elethea's journey! If you're new, welcome. You should probably read 'Dig Up The Bones' and 'Leave The Soul Alone' before you read this so you understand what's going on. If you're back, welcome! This story is going to be quite dark, as per the others. **

**This first chapter might come across a little confusing, Elethea is in a very fragile state of mind and that is definitely going to show.**

**As of yet, no, I have not seen Mockingjay. I am going in 2 days and that is why this chapter is quite short and only focuses on Elethea. I didn't want to risk doing anything from Finnick's POV before I saw the movie, but rest assured he'll be in next chapter ;)**

**Please review and let me know what you think :D**

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_"__I'm chasing all the lines of your skin_

_And all your pirouette mistakes_

_So dance until you're brand new_

_Ignore the fight inside that scares you."_

_\- Painted, Evans Blue_

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**Elethea's POV**

If there was a before, I don't remember it.

My mind consists of pieces of a puzzle that haven't been put together. That's because some of the pieces are still missing. The full picture is right there, but I can't grasp it. All I can remember is loyalty. To District 4, to the Capitol. I do what I'm told. Obedience without question. Things that have been drilled into the fragments over and over again. Maybe, if I _am_ obedient, I get more pieces. Maybe the puzzle will be put back together.

I remember faces. A beautiful man with eyes like the ocean, radiant as the sun. A girl with brown hair and hazel eyes full of pity, who stands in my doorway from time to time. Sometimes I think I remember their names, but it's reaching for something just above my head, held tauntingly just out of reach. There's one face I can put a name to: dark hair, cruel eyes. _Hyperion Dormer_.

"Elethea?"

A blonde man stands in my room. I remember his name, too. Gloss. His sister died in the Quarter Quell. I remember parts of that, but nothing solid. Flashes of things that might be dreams, or might be reality. It's hard to tell, so I don't try. I forget about the before, and I focus on the now. It's the only way to stay sane.

"What are you doing here?" I rasp, sitting up slowly. My head is pounding. Yesterday…what did I do yesterday? Oh that's right, I saw Peeta, and President Snow. More names and faces that I can remember. We're the loyal ones, Peeta and I. Snow was saying he was proud of us, that we've done a service to the Capitol. That we are to be commended.

"I was sent here."

"But why?" I ask, unable to understand. Gloss is usually kept in the cells below. He's a traitor. He isn't loyal. Hyperion's told me that, many times. He can't be trusted.

"For you," he says, and for some reason, shivers wriggle like worms down my spine. He steps closer, and I spring to my feet, Victor instincts kicking in. Why is Gloss here? What does he want? Who sent him?

He moves with surprising speed for a man of his size, grabbing me by the wrists hard enough to bruise. I cry out as he forces me against the wall, and I'm shaking because I don't understand. Ally or enemy? Real or fake? It hurts trying to think about it and I want to close my eyes, but I can't, because I don't know what will happen if I do.

"Gloss?" I choke out.

Something sparks in the depths of his eyes. Pity. "I'm sorry. I have to."

"What are you talking about?" I rasp. But Gloss doesn't have any more words for me, only actions. He reaches out, fisting his hands in my shirt and tugging hard so that it's ripped messily in two. I don't see his conflicted blue eyes, I see Hyperion's cruel ones there instead, and then I'm sobbing so hard that my frame is shaking with the force of it.

Because I _understand._ I understand, and it's sick.

Gloss tosses me so that I go spinning, hurtling across the room like a ballerina on ecstasy, hitting the edge of the bed and tumbling onto it. He follows, pressing down upon me, a heavy weight that makes me feel like I'm suffocating. I scratch and claw and kick. There are tears in Gloss's eyes as he pins my wrists with ease, reaching to flip up my skirt.

I _scream_. The descent begins and my sanity is shattered like a mirror.

Again.

* * *

I wake up later and everything is a haze. I don't remember things clearly, but the bruises on my wrists and thighs are evidence enough. I start shaking as some of the puzzle pieces slide into place and all I can think of is: why? Why would he do that to me? Bile rises in my throat and I just manage to make it to the bathroom before I vomit in the toilet. I try so hard not to cry, but there's a lump in my throat and my eyes are stinging with the tears I won't let myself shed.

I crumple to my knees and curl up in a ball. Have I done something, to deserve this kind of punishment? I've killed people in my time, but that was for survival. It's nothing no other Victor has done. I know that it wasn't Gloss, but at the same time it was. The face of the man I gave my virginity to haunts me when I screw my eyes shut. I blurt out a sob and press my face into my hands.

Footsteps make me look up and I see Hyperion leaning in the doorway. There's a sympathetic expression on his face, but those eyes are cold, taunting. As if I'm meant to have learned some kind of twisted lesson from this.

_Who do you belong to?_

But I don't belong to anyone. Or if I did, it would be Finnick Odair. Finnick, who's so far away, wherever he is. I hope he's safe. I don't begrudge him his safety. Maybe he'll come looking for me. Maybe he can't. Until he finds me, I'm stuck here, with the monsters inside my head and the monsters who don the masks of humans.

"He hurt you, didn't he, sweet Elethea?" Hyperion asks, but I don't reply. I stay curled up on the cold tiles because maybe if I ignore him, he'll leave me alone. Instead he kneels in front of me, catching my chin and making me look at him. "Now you see that the Capitol can make a beast of anyone. We did it to him, we could do it to you. To your precious Finnick, when we get him."

"_No_!" I scream, lashing out with fists and nails and batting him away from me. They've already made me a monster. They won't do the same to Finnick. I won't let them. Hyperion easily grabs my wrists, hurling me to the floor. I don't even attempt to try again. Instead I clutch my knees to my chest and hold back tears, ignoring the burning in my eyes and my throat.

_Who do you belong to?_

_The Capitol._

But he never will. Not Finnick.


	2. Only Human

**Chapter Two: Only Human**

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**A/N: It's been a very busy holiday period, and I hope you can all forgive me in the delay in updating. However, I'm in full swing once again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :) Really pleased by the response so far, please review and let me know what you think :)**

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_"__But I'm only human,_

_And I bleed when I fall down_

_I'm only human_

_And I crash and I break down_

_Your words in my head_

_Knives in my heart_

_You build me up and then I fall apart."_

_\- Human, Christina Perri_

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**Finnick's POV**

At first, all I could do was succumb to misery. Knowing that the Capitol had Elethea, that she was slowly becoming their creature, was too much to bear. I sat in my room and cried for hours on end, until my eyes were swollen and sore and my head pounded. Then I realised that wasn't of any use to anyone. So I started tying knots, ignoring the calluses forming on my fingers. Tying, untying. The pattern repeated.

But it was another human being who actually shattered the shell I had crawled into. The strongest woman I've ever met: Rayne Ambrose. If she had lost two children – one to the Games and another to the Capitol – and could be the driven and determined person she was today, by god, so could I. Rayne embodies everything that I could ever admire in a person, and it was no surprise that Elethea was so much like her mother.

"I know that you're hurting." Rayne sets her hand on my shoulder one morning when we're down in the cafeteria. "But so I am. Instead of focusing on the knots, we need to think of how we can get her and the Victors out."

I remember a child, a fourteen-year-old who was too proud to see what the Games were really like, until they broke her. A girl prostituted out at the age of fifteen, to meet the sick desires of Capitolians. Who at sixteen, lost her younger brother. There was only so much someone could bend before they broke. I'm so frightened, terrified that Elethea's time in the Capitol without me there is going to shatter her. I fear for who she will be by the time we get to her.

"She won't still be Elethea," I whisper.

"It's because she's been hijacked." Rayne's voice comes out so strong, not even a waver. "She isn't herself at the moment. But she will fight it with every fibre of her being."

I look up at her. "How do you know that?"

Rayne smiles sadly, tears brimming in her eyes. "Because she is my daughter."

That, I cannot disagree with. But my eyes keep drifting up to the television, to reports of what's happening in the Capitol. I haven't seen anything of Elethea since her direct threat to Katniss. Is she still alive? Is she really coming for us? Does she pose a threat to the Mockingjay? So many questions unanswered. Yet I have the feeling that, soon enough, we will find out.

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**Elethea's POV**

It's during one of my sane states, where I'm not delirious or feeling fuzzy, that I visit Peeta Mellark. At first, I think that the Peacekeepers might tell me that I can't, might try and stop me. So I'm surprised to find that my path to Peeta is unimpeded. I just walk right into his room where he's dressed all in white, sitting by the window and reading a book. He looks up, and there's something almost content about his expression. An irritation prickles beneath my skin.

"Peeta," I say coolly, watching as he sets his book down and walks towards me. He was always a pleasant person, Peeta. Katniss was the sort of fiery renegade that many would find disagreeable. Peeta was the peacemaker, the mediator. But here in the Capitol, he shouldn't look as comfortable as he does now. Why can't he feel that something is wrong?

"Elethea." He smiles, and it's genuine, which is why I hate it. There's no doubting he's been injected with the tracker jacker venom. So why isn't he fighting it? "I haven't seen you for a while. How have you been?"

"Are you serious?" I raise my eyebrows at his casual words. We're being held prisoner in the Capitol and asking me how I'm going? "Have you asked Enobaria how she's going? Or…"

I try and say Gloss's name, but it still tastes bitter on my tongue, and I think I'll vomit if I utter it. The humiliation still cuts deep as a knife, and his name is not something I can voice out loud just yet. What Gloss did was a thousand times worse than anything Hyperion ever put me through, because I never thought they could break him that much, make him fall that far that he would hurt me in such a degrading, horrific way.

"What do you mean?" Peeta looks perplexed, as if he truly doesn't understand. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him until he understands, but I know that won't do anything to help. Instead I can only stare at him incredulously.

"Don't you see what they're doing? They're hurting us, Peeta. If they haven't started on you, they will soon."

His face changes. He looks slightly scared. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do," I persist, because I see that I'm starting to get through to him. His calm façade is breaking, and he's starting to realise that the Capitol aren't just going to keep us in cosy little rooms for no particular reason. We were taken. "Do you think they're suddenly going to be nice, Peeta? The Capitol has done nothing for you. It's because of them that you were in the Games in the first place."

"They haven't killed us," Peeta says defensively, although he lacks conviction, "They haven't harmed us."

"Yes they have!" I explode before I can help myself. My icy demeanour has melted, and now I find myself furious, furious with the fact that the Capitol has gotten Peeta onto their side. "Don't you know what happened to people like Finnick and Cashmere? How they were prostituted out? How they killed Haymitch's family? How they made Gloss…they made him…"

Peeta sees me falter and frowns. "Made him what? Elethea?"

He reaches for me, but I shrink away from him. It's too soon for me to what to be touched, even by as gentle a person as him. Instead I ignore the fact that my hands are shaking, and hold up my bruised wrists for him to inspect. Peeta is not a child. The horror that comes into his eyes tells me that he understands all too well.

"He…"

"Yes, he raped me," I spit the words out, as if by forcing them out more quickly, I'll be able to handle it. It's out in the open now. "Not of his own accord. Because he was put under tracker jacker venom. Don't you see, Peeta? They're turning us against our own. The Capitol isn't kind because they've spared us. If anything, I think that makes it even worse."

Peeta just stares at me, like I'm a wild animal and he doesn't know how to tame me, control me. He's beginning to understand, but my fervency has frightened him. I sigh heavily and rake a hand through my messy dark hair. There is only so much I can tell him. Unfortunately, it seems that this is something Peeta will have to experience himself.

* * *

When I find out that President Snow has asked to see me, I feel an immense cold come over me. My stomach twists itself into knots, the palms of my hands go clammy and I feel like I might be sick. This can't mean anything good. Perhaps Peeta told him about the chat we had, and Snow is going to reprimand me before finding a suitable punishment. The thought terrifies me, and I can't help but shake as the Peacekeepers lead me into his office.

"Miss Ambrose." Snow sits at his desk, offering me a cold smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Please, sit."

It's not a request. It's an order. I take a seat, barely preventing myself from fidgeting and wondering what I have done to be called into his office to speak with him in person. It must be something to do with Peeta. I can't think of any other crimes I have committed whilst I've been in the Capitol.

"Have I done something wrong, sir?" I ask timidly, unable to meet his gaze. I want to fight and yell and spit in his face. But I'm tired of facing the consequences for the actions of all the Victors. I'm tired of being beaten and raped because the Capitol is sick, and wants to punish us, looks for reasons to do so.

"No, that's not why I asked you to come here." Snow forces a tight smile. "You have no doubt realised the threat that has been posed to us here in the Capitol. The rebels in the so-called District 13, led by Katniss Everdeen. You remember the speech you gave the first night you were here, don't you?"

Bits and pieces. I remember threatening Katniss, the Mockingjay. Telling her that I was coming for her. When I'm not, I'm still here in the Capitol, I couldn't damage them even if I wanted to. That wasn't me talking, that was the tracker jacker venom. It was all televised, and I wonder if Finnick saw it all. If he's disgusted with me now, and what he thinks I've become.

But instead of saying that, I nod mutely. I'm quickly coming to realise that fighting and surviving are two very similar things. After all, I wasn't a fighter when I won my Games. I was a survivor. But becoming a Victor marked me out as a fighter. Sometimes, to survive, you have to fight the sneaky way. That means pretending you agree with the Capitol, even if you don't. Suddenly, Peeta Mellark doesn't seem like such a coward to me after all.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Snow leans back in his chair. "You have become the face of the Districts, and their strength against the uprising. Districts like 1 and 2, and naturally your home district of 4, are looking to you. Your spirit in the face of the radicals has given them hope."

I wonder where this is going. It's a bit concerning for me to learn that my time in front of the camera criticising the rebellion is not done. They'll inject me with more tracker jacker venom and I'll spout more vicious nonsense that I don't even believe in. But instead of questioning Snow, I remain silent and listen to what he's going to want from me next.

"There is growing unrest in districts such as 8." Snow's lips curls, and I swallow hard. "No doubt many of the lower districts believe they're getting a hard bargain. I will do my best to convince them, but you need to do some convincing of your own."

"What do you mean?" I frown, forgetting all about the 'sir'. "How could I inspire a district like 8? They barely even know who I am."

"8 doesn't," Snow agreed, "But your home district of 4, the other wealthy districts such as 1 and 2 – those are the districts that will listen to you. If you show conviction, belief in the Capitol, they may yet decide in our favour."

I want to tell Snow that I refuse, I refuse to go and brainwash the people of my district and the neighbouring ones as I have been brainwashed. That I would like nothing more than to go and tell them to join the Mockingjay, because her cause is one worth fighting for. But the choice has been taken out of my hands, for when I glance over my shoulder, I notice a Peacekeeper heading towards me with a syringe.

I lurch out of my chair, and it clatters to the floor. Snow watches calmly as the Peacekeeper grabs me forcibly by my bruised wrist, making me cry out, and pricks my vein with the point of the syringe. Tracker jacker venom floods into my system, and I can't help but choke back a sob. Today, I am Elethea Ambrose. Tomorrow, I am the Capitol's monster once again.


	3. Creatures Lie Here

**Chapter Three: Creatures Lie Here**

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**A/N: Finally, an update! Sorry for my absence but real life tends to take over sometimes. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter :D**

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_"__I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me,_

_A monster, a monster_

_I've turned into a monster_

_A monster, a monster_

_And it keeps getting stronger."_

_\- Monster, Imagine Dragons_

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**Elethea's POV**

District 4 doesn't look the same. No matter how hard I try, it's hard to look. We were always one of the Capitol's most favoured. The wealthy districts, where the citizens didn't have dark circles under their eyes, didn't look malnourished. They still don't, but they do look…changed. There's a hardness to them now, a grim expression on the faces of many. I can't help but find it rather pitiful. Don't they know yet that I'm their saviour?

I step off the train and toss my dark hair over my shoulders. I've always been good at memorising, so I have my entire speech in my head. All I have to do is tell them what a good little district they are, and how much the Capitol will reward them if they choose not to join in this stupid rebellion, if they continue to support President Snow. I chew on my lip before remembering my red lipstick.

_If you show conviction, they may yet decide in our favour._ That's what the President said. I don't exactly remember when, because everything is a bit blurry. But I have enough conviction, I know it. It's certainly not something I lack. But these people of District 4, with their sad eyes and their tough expressions – they're lacking it. I only hope it won't be too difficult to convince them of our cause.

The mayor greets me nervously. His hands are shaking and there's sweat on his brow. What on earth does this man have to be concerned about, the babbling fool? He leads me out to the podium, and I swell with pride as I see that my entire district is standing there in silence. Waiting for me.

"People of District 4." I step up to the microphone, smiling as my voice resonates through the square. "You know me, I am one of you. I am Elethea Ambrose, Victor of the 69th Hunger Games."

I am only met with silence. This doesn't deter me – I know that they are listening at least. Better quiet than them muttering amongst themselves.

"You all know about the resistance rising up in places such as District 8. The fact that some districts see fit to question the Capitol's motives. But I'm here today to convince you that President Snow will most generously reward any who help him stomp out this little rebellion."

The muttering begins then, as I expected it to. The resistance is always cause for unrest, and my home district is no exception. They would have known about what was going on in District 8, about the fact that several Victors and other rebels have fled. Apparently to District 13, although the notion never fails to make me laugh. District 13 was blown to bits a long time ago now. How could it still exist?

"Join me," I call over the restless murmuring, "Join me, and our President in stopping these radicals."

A hush falls over the crowd, and I frown as I see it parting. Someone is heading towards the stage. What could they possibly have to say? I examine the brunette woman who stares up at me with a mixture of hatred and sorrow in her piercingly blue eyes. There's something familiar about her. I feel as though I recognise her, although I can't remember her name. Her eyes glitter with unshed tears.

"For my family," she calls, and then she raises the gun in her hand and pulls the trigger.

The loud _bang_ that resonates throughout the square sends the district into chaos. Several people scream. I stagger and look down to see crimson liquid pooling beneath my shirt, just beneath my ribcage. The pain hasn't kicked in yet, but the realisation that I've been shot definitely has.

People are starting to panic. A few of them are running. Peacekeepers march down towards the square, as the woman turns the gun on herself, pressing it to her temple. I close my eyes as a second _bang_ rips through the pandemonium. The mayor steps towards me, his eyes wide with shock. Everything around me blurs and fades, and I collapse.

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**Finnick's POV**

The broadcast of Elethea in District 4 reaches our screens in District 13. I can't help but pace. Rayne sinks into a chair with her hands over her mouth. Although it's definitely Elethea, she's a shell of who she really is. Her eyes are completely dead and the smile across her face looks more like a sneer as she raves about the Capitol, about how fantastic the President is.

Movement in the crowd catches my eye, and the camera zooms in to show a woman in her late twenties, heading towards the stage. Her features are recognisable at once, and I hear Rayne gasp. It's Daisy Deran, Dominic's older sister. Her face is contorted with anger as she raises the gun in her hand, and shoots Elethea in the stomach.

Rayne screams, lurching to her feet as if she can physically help her daughter. My entire body stiffens, and I'm helpless, a prisoner to the broadcast as it continues even as citizens run screaming, as Daisy then proceeds to shoot herself in the head. Elethea collapses on the stage and Rayne presses her face into her hands and sobs.

The television is suddenly turned off. I whirl around to see Katniss standing there with the remote in her hand. Her jaw is clenched and she lifts her chin, daring me to wrest the remote from her and turn the broadcast back on. But I can't. The image of Elethea collapsing plays over and over in my mind. Behind us, Rayne is still crying.

"Is she dead?" I ask stupidly, as if Katniss has the answer.

She shrugs. "It's a live broadcast, Finnick. But I can't take any more of it. Not seeing her like that."

Katniss didn't know Elethea that well. I don't even know if they got along, but I know that Katniss has a healthy appreciation now of what it takes to be a Victor. She has respect for quite a lot of her fellow Victors – apart from some of the Careers, naturally. She also realises what it means to me, to see the woman I love being shot on live television. She did what I couldn't, tearing me away from the nightmare in District 4.

I glance at Rayne. Her brother, her son…now her daughter too? We don't know whether Elethea survived the murder attempt, but I know that Rayne will worry until she knows one way or the other. She's a mum, it's her job. I sweep over and hold her close. We share a connection, this woman and I. That connection is Elethea, and both of us will break if we lose her forever.

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**Elethea's POV**

I peel my eyes open to the irritating repetitive sound of a heart monitor. I don't remember anything much. Why am I in a hospital? I look down and stiffen as I see the bandaging over my stomach. I remember now, remember being shot by a hateful woman in District 4. My heart rate spikes as I start to panic, kicking off the blankets and yanking the needles from my arms with a grimace.

"They won't let you leave."

Gloss is a broken man, his blue eyes hollow. He walks closer and then falls to his knees, even as I flinch away from him. My mind is struggling to make the connection between what is real and what is not. I know that it wasn't really Gloss who raped me, that the tracker jacker venom made him a monster just like it does to me. I stare down at him, hands clenching and unclenching. Why is he in my hospital room?

"Why are you here?"

"I'm where I've always been," Gloss replies cryptically, looking at me with tearful eyes. "This is a prison, Elethea. They let me come and see you because I said…I said that I wanted to express my regrets. But not that you were shot, because of what I did."

My eyes flutter closed. I remember what Gloss did, all too well. I want to forgive him, but I don't know whether I can. I take a deep breath, even though it pains me to do so because of the bullet wound that's still healing in my stomach. He reaches for me desperately, but I back away, hitting the wall.

"I'm so sorry," he sobs, "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone. I can't forgive myself for what I've done, to you or to Storm, so I can't expect you to forgive me either. I just wanted you to know that I regret what I did."

"What you did to Storm?" I frown. Storm Asterbury, the pretty Capitolian girl that Gloss reluctantly fell in love with.

"She was carrying my child, I didn't know…" Gloss breaks down again, choking out sobs, and I realise with horror what he has done. He was violent towards me, but if he was also violent towards Storm…I realise that I pity him, this poor broken boy who has lost everything, who the Capitol has turned against the one person he has left. I swear I will kill Hyperion for what he's done, to all of us.

I can't help but feel sympathy for him now, knowing that his actions are not his fault. I kneel in front of Gloss as he curls up like a child, sobbing hysterically. I reach out tentatively, stroking his blonde hair out of his face. He looks up at me and stops crying, his expression uncertain. He doesn't know why I'm showing him kindness, and that almost breaks my heart. I pull him close, ignoring how pain twinges in my wound.

"We'll be alright," I whisper, stroking his hair as he clutches at me. "We will."

Neither of us believe it, but we have to try and hope, for our own sanity. I don't know how long we stay there on the floor, curled against each other as I stroke Gloss's hair and soothe him. Cashmere should be here to do this, she should be alive to comfort her younger brother. So even though he's older than me, it falls to me to put him back together instead. Only I'm not sure that I can, because I don't think I'm strong enough.

"How touching." Sarcasm practically drips from Hyperion's tone as he enters the room. I don't release Gloss, but instead glare up at him. He raises his eyebrows. "Gloss, get out. I'll have you escorted back to your own cell."

Gloss tears from my grasp and hisses obscenities, and I grab his arm and try and restrain him from lunging at Hyperion. The Capitolian merely looks amused, and two Peacekeepers enter and drag Gloss out. I can hear him yelling down the hall, but I'm painfully aware of the fact that I'm alone in this room with Hyperion.

"You should remember where your loyalties lie." Hyperion tugs me close, deliberately digging his fingers in around my bullet wound so pain surges through me and I cry out. I rip away from him, rubbing at the tender spot.

"Not with you. Not with the Capitol. Just because you load me with tracker jacker venom doesn't mean I need to act like it when I'm actually me."

"They think you're dead, you know." I can tell Hyperion is gloating because of the way his eyes light up, and I suddenly feel nauseous when I realise he's talking about Mum and Finnick. "They saw you shot on live television, they didn't know you made it out alive. Snow has decided that it's too dangerous to have you going around the districts anymore. So he's going to put out a press release to inform Panem of your murder."

I go cold, although I see why they're doing it. Chaos will rise if people think a Victor was shot dead in her own district. It gives Snow a reason to punish 4, something that makes me taste bile in my mouth. The woman who shot me…I know who she was now. Daisy Deran, Dom's sister. I wonder if she would have shot me in any case, remembering that I was the one who killed her brother.

"Then what will happen to me?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer. Wouldn't it just be easier for Snow to actually kill me, so that there's actually a grain of truth in his story?

Hyperion's awful smile tells me it's nothing good. "Oh, you'll see."


	4. We Are Not Things

**Chapter Four: We Are Not Things**

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**A/N: I hope by now you've all seen the Mockingjay Part 2 trailer! So intense, huh? Anyway, hope you enjoy this new chapter. I can promise a major death next chapter ;)**

**Also, any guesses as to where the "we are not things" phrase that inspired Elethea's little speech comes from? ;)**

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_"__They're all around me, circling like vultures._

_They want to break me and wash away my colours,_

_Wash away my colours."_

_\- My Demons, Starset_

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

The darkness is all-consuming. It surrounds me like a cloak, and I feel both extremely vulnerable and yet oddly protected by it at the same time. It's started to get hard to remember how many days I've been in this cell, how long I've been apart from Finnick. That thought makes me ache the most – that he and my mum will be wondering where I am, probably thinking I'm dead. Giving up hope.

The only sound I hear is my own breath. In and out, very even. It's calming to be alone, because I prefer that to being prodded and shoved around by Capitolians. Whenever the door opens and light enters, it hurts my eyes. I don't even think too much about what I must look like, because I don't really care anymore. I just try and sleep when I can, because it's one of the few things that I can do to pass the time that stretches on without hope of ending.

There's a beep as the door opens and I let my eyes flutter closed as the light filters in. Footsteps head towards me, slowly but surely. I open my eyes slowly, letting them accustom to the light. I expect to see Hyperion in front of me, smirking. Instead there's a Peacekeeper I only vaguely recognise. Without a word, he takes my arm and hauls me to my feet, dragging me from my cell.

My legs shake in protest. They haven't been used in days, and I find that my knees are shaking as the silent Peacekeeper has the cell locked behind me, leading me to the lower levels of the prison. I'm led into a room that is so bright white that my eyes water. Hyperion is across the room with his trademark smug grin, with a battered and defeated Gloss standing beside him. The door behind me clangs shut with a finality that sends dread racing down my spine.

"Are we here to die?" I ask, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hyperion's tone is smooth as silk, sounding affronted at the very idea. Of course, why would the Capitol let Gloss and I die when we are such valuable assets alive? My friends all think I'm dead after Daisy Deran's attempt on my life. No one knows that I'm down here. "We're here to question you about the resistance."

This. I should have expected this. I stiffen and look over at Gloss. I realise why we're both here. They're only going to torture one of us, in the hope that it convinces the other to talk. For a moment, I flounder. I feel like I'm in District 4 beneath the pounding waves of the ocean, being slowly but surely hammered under, caught in the tide and pulled underwater. Drowning.

Then I take a deep breath and remember that some things are worth dying for. If this is my final defiance, if this cold cell is where I will make my last stand, so be it. But I won't tell them anything about the resistance. Because this movement against the Capitol is worth more than my life. I didn't see it once, but I do now. Everything I have endured as a Victor – the kills I made during the Games, my own baby brother's untimely death, repeated rapes at the hands of sick men like Hyperion…the resistance could put an end to that. It won't save me, but it will save other girls from becoming me.

"Hook him up."

I look at the machine that Hyperion is talking about. It's a huge, ugly contraption made of metal. Gloss is forced up onto it, strapped against it as one of the Peacekeepers turns on a switch. Electrical currents run up and down the machine, and I swallow hard as I realise what this has the potential to do.

"Now, Elethea, won't you tell us where they are, what they're planning?"

I lift my chin. "Go to hell."

"Very well." Hyperion steps forward and, with no reluctance whatsoever, turns a knob. The currents zap down the machine and hiss as they make contact with Gloss, who jerks around as if he's having a fit. I bite down on my lip. I could watch him die by electrocution right here and now. Another death on my hands.

"Do you really think this will make me tell you?" I manage a mirthless laugh. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

Hyperion frowns across at me. "Figured what out?"

"You seem to think that we'll snap like twigs and tell you what you want." All the hate comes bursting from me, all the anger that's been pent up inside me. I can't release it physically because it will be no use. So I release it in the only way I know how, in the way the Capitol wields their weapon: with words. "But you're wrong."

"Everyone breaks." Hyperion demonstrates his point by turning up the voltage. Gloss's screams make me close my eyes to the bright electrical currents coursing through his body, but I know him well enough that he won't talk. Neither of us will.

"No." I step forward. "We aren't toys for the Capitolians to play with when they get bored of their extravagant lifestyles. Our slaughter isn't your entertainment. We are broken, but we are people. We are not things. We are _not things_!"

Hyperion can turn that voltage up as high as he wants. Gloss could die during the torture, but he's a fool if he really thinks things like pain and death will break us down. Our fates have been in the hands of the Capitol for too long, and now we have the chance to make our own decisions. Even if it's only between life and death, pain and numbness, it's a _choice._ The power that gives us is something I don't expect Capitolians to understand.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

I sit on the steps with my head in my hands, fingers twisted in my hair. I should have known that talking to Coin about my ideas wasn't a smart move. If she isn't willing to make sacrifices for Katniss, she sure as hell isn't for me. But thinking about Elethea, not knowing whether she's alive or dead but just needing to know for sure…it pushed me to the brink, and I had to ask. About going to the Capitol.

If she was alive, I'd ask her to marry me. I know that now with a sudden, frustrating clarity, because it's something I hadn't even considered before. I want to be with Elethea for the rest of my life, however short it may be. But now, that opportunity might have been snatched from me. I don't want to give up on her, but I'm powerless here in 13. There's nothing I can do but stick with the plan, because Coin isn't making any changes for the woman I love.

I entertained the thought of having children with Elethea, before remembering that the Capitol even took that away from her, when she was just a little sixteen-year-old girl. It hurts me, but probably not anywhere near as much as it hurts her. I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing I have to stop thinking about Elethea or else it's going to break me.

"How are you holding up?" Rayne sits beside me with a bowl of soup. Not for the first time, I marvel at her strength. It's definitely where Elethea got her resolve from.

"Not so good," I admit, glancing at her. She believes that Elethea is alive, because she has to. Rayne is a woman who has already lost so much in her life, and she needs to cling to the slender thread of hope that her daughter is still alive in the Capitol. Even though they've announced that she's dead, I know the tricks the Capitol likes to play. I _know_ she's out there, and that's what makes my inability to act all the more frustrating.

"We'll find her." Rayne rests a strong hand on my shoulder, gripping tightly. "If there's anything I know about Elethea, it's that she's a survivor. Whatever hell they're putting her through, she's going to make it because she still has things to live for."

Heavy boots thump down the corridor, making me look up. It's Gale Hawthorne from District 12, a young man who's a good friend of Katniss's, probably a similar age to Elethea. He glances between Rayne and I, before folding his arms over his chest.

"Coin wants to talk to you."

I heave a sigh. "I was just there."

"No, this is something different." Gale takes a deep breath. "You aren't the only one who wants to go to the Capitol, you know. I think they're coming up with a plan."

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I don't remember when I passed out, but I must have, either from exhaustion or the sheer stress of watching what happened to Gloss. I remember faces from my nightmares, people screaming. When I wake up, they still are. I tug my knees to my chest and take a few deep breaths, counting just like Cashmere taught me to. Gloss isn't hooked up to the machine anymore. In fact, he's nowhere in sight.

The door swings open and Hyperion saunters in. But behind his casual gait, there's anger burning in his eyes. I know then that Gloss is still alive, and hasn't told him anything. That's why he's so mad. He reaches out to me and hauls me up by the hair, pulling me close. I want to spit in his face or bite his nose off, anything I can do to this horrible man who's been tormenting me since I was a teenager.

"Who are the leaders?" he demands. I know why he's losing his cool – Snow must want answers, and Hyperion is the one he's charged with getting them. Surely a former Head Gamemaker would be able to bully some answers out of Victors. But he's wrong.

I laugh hoarsely. "I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

I watch his hand curl into a fist, and reel as it slams into the side of my face. The blow is stronger than I anticipated, knocking me to the ground. My vision spins, but there's one thing I see clearly as everything comes back into focus: the scalpel sitting amidst a tray of medical instruments. I don't know what they're for, don't want to know what they're for. But to me, the scalpel has a worth I never expected.

I lunge, picking up the scalpel and knocking the other instruments to the ground as I grab it desperately. I whirl back around to face Hyperion and he laughs, clearly expecting me to attack him with it. There are Peacekeepers just outside that door. They couldn't stop me from killing him, but that wasn't my intention. Instead, I take the scalpel and press it to my throat.

"Elethea, what are you doing?" He still sounds mildly amused, but his eyes convey the concern and confusion that grips him. I feel a surge of vicious triumph. He needs to get information about the resistance on me, which tends to work best if I'm alive.

"You play with life and death like it's a game." I press the scalpel down. It stings slightly, and I can feel blood welling beneath the surface. "My turn."

Hyperion steps towards me, but I take a step back with a deranged laugh. Maybe I have lost my mind. Maybe I lost it long ago. But in this situation, he's powerless. If I slit my throat, there is nothing he can do to stop me. I feel powerful.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll do it."

"Put the scalpel down," Hyperion commands, but I hear the uncertainty in his voice.

If I do this, I deny the Capitol a vital opportunity. They will have nothing to use against Gloss to try and force his compliance, because I can't see Hyperion willing to use Storm again. I want to see Finnick and my mum again, but the importance of the resistance outweighs my personal desires. If I slit my throat here and now, I would set the Capitol back.

Hyperion's eyes glint with triumph and I frown, before someone grips my wrist and forces the scalpel away from my throat. I whirl around to see Peeta standing behind me, dark circles beneath his eyes. He looks as though he's been tortured too. I open my mouth to offer some angry comment, but then the scalpel clatters to the floor and Peeta collapses. I kneel beside him, concerned.

"What have you done to him?" I demand of Hyperion.

Instead of replying, the Capitolian kicks the scalpel out of reach, hauling me to my feet and away from Peeta. He's angry that I held power over him, if even momentarily. He's stolen my opportunity for now, but I have no doubt that the instance in which I can take control of my own life – or death – will come again.


	5. Every Scar

**Chapter Five: Every Scar**

* * *

**A/N: I know you've all been waiting a while for an update, and here it is. I was waiting until the movie so I could see where things went, considering this chapter is the last set during Mockingjay: Part 1. Please let me know what you think, as always :)**

* * *

_"__So you can throw me to the wolves_

_Tomorrow I will come back_

_Leader of the whole pack._

_Beat me black and blue_

_Every wound will shape me_

_Every scar will build my throne."_

_\- Throne, Bring Me The Horizon_

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

I'm in my room when I hear the sound of gunshots. The noise jolts me to the core and I push myself to my feet, hands balled into ready fists. I swallow the lump in my throat, but I'm a Victor. I'm ready for whatever I have to face now. My breathing becomes faster, heart racing in my chest as the sound of thudding boots becomes louder, closer. They're coming for me. I just don't know quite who 'they' are.

My door swings open with enough force that it rocks on its hinges. The man who stands there is young, perhaps a few years younger than me. He's tall, with grey eyes and strong features, but I don't recognise him. I don't know him. So I go for my instinctive reaction, which is to rush at him and throw myself at him with enough force to knock him to the ground. He goes down with a grunt, but quickly manages to grab my wrists.

"Stop! Elethea Ambrose, right? My name's Gale Hawthorne, I'm here to help you. I know Finnick Odair."

The words do their job and stop me in my tracks. I blink, frowning. Finnick is with the rebels, I know that much. So Gale must be from there too, from the mythical District 13 where they're allegedly hiding. Nudging me off him, Gale clambers to his feet, wincing slightly. I immediately feel bad for hurting him, but I always jump to conclusions. I thought he was here to kill me.

"Come on." Gale grabs my arm. His grip is not soft and I take it he is not a gentle man. He escorts me from my room, but once we're out in the corridor, I peer into another room and freeze at what I see. Hyperion Dormer lies dead on the carpet in his lounge, his eyes wide and terrified. His throat has been slashed and blood pools all around his body.

I feel a surge of vicious satisfaction. This horrible man, who has tormented me since I was a teenager. He was the one responsible for my Games, responsible for causing me physical and psychological pain since. Seeing him dead in such a brutal way pleases me greatly, and a laugh springs forth, bursting out of my mouth. Gale looks astonished and slightly disturbed, as I laugh my way down the corridor.

Hyperion Dormer is dead, and while that doesn't free me, it does take a heavy weight off my shoulders. I relax slightly when Gale and I are joined by faces I recognise: Gloss, Enobaria, other Victors. I understand what's happening here, as much as the word 'rescue' makes me want to laugh some more. I'm _safe_.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

We sit there in dread as we wait to see whether we lost the rescue team. I did my best, speaking about my time as a prostitute for the Capitol and some of the secrets I'd learned…secrets about President Snow. It was a ruse, but it also revealed a darker nature to the President that most people didn't know about. The funny thing is, I couldn't even remember who had told me. Had it been one woman, or multiple?

Rayne is restless. She's the sort of woman who needs answers and isn't happy with sitting patiently waiting for them. The more I learn about her, the more I see of her daughter. Leon too. Both of her children seem to have got their admirable traits from this strong, independent woman who will stop at nothing to see her child safe in District 13.

A wordless cry stirs me. My fingers were working rope into knots, over and over despite the fact that my skin blisters. But as Rayne runs to the doors, I jerk up to see that the rescue team have returned. One of them yells for medics, carrying an unconscious brown-haired young woman I vaguely recognise. She looks like she's lost a lot of blood, judging by the pallor of her skin.

But she's not the one who catches my attention. Elethea has broken into a run, flinging her arms around her mother. Rayne is crying hard, stroking her daughter's black hair and clutching her close as though afraid they'll be pulled apart again. I walk over slowly, not wanting to take the shine off Rayne. She deserves this moment with her daughter, and I don't want to interrupt it.

"You're alive," Rayne says, over and over. "You're alive."

"Mum, I'm okay," Elethea assures her, but there's a deep sadness in her eyes that tells me otherwise. She isn't alright. Lots of terrible things have probably happened to her. We'll talk later, but I know she will never admit the hardships she's faced to her mother. It would break Rayne's heart.

"El." When Rayne draws back, I step forward to embrace her. She buries her face in my shirt and I hold her as tightly as her mother did, both of us afraid to let her go. I release her after a few moments and raise my eyebrows questioningly. The silent communication lets her know that if she wants to talk, I'm ready.

* * *

Elethea comes to see me later, eyes darting uncertainly around the room. I smile encouragingly and pat the spot beside me on the bed. I don't push her, because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that people need their own time to open up. Elethea bears both physical bruises and sign of psychological trauma from her time in the Capitol. I remember the speeches, the interviews. She wasn't herself. They injected her with tracker jacker venom and made her into something she wasn't. Now she's trying to make sense of who she is and where she belongs.

This time, I'm out of my depth. I can comfort her after she's been used by a Capitolian, because I know what that feels like. I'm there for her to hold when she has nightmares about her Games, and she does the same for me. But I've never been drugged the way she was, never forced into that kind of situation. It frightens me a little, thinking I might lose her because I can't relate.

"Gloss raped me," she whispers.

"What?" I tense up. I know that Gloss was her first, but I never assumed…Elethea catches my arm and her eyes are sad, which tells me that there's more to the story. So I lapse into silence and listen.

"He was injected with the tracker jacker venom too," she says softly, picking at her nails. "Hyperion wanted to destroy me completely. So he thought, by getting another Victor, someone I almost trusted…"

"Did you kill him?" I ask. I heard from the others that he was dead, found in a pool of his own blood on the floor. The thought makes me feel satisfied, and it wouldn't surprise me if Elethea was the one to do it.

"No. But I wish I had been." She looks into the distance wistfully for several moments. "It was Storm, the Capitolian girl. She did it."

It startles me a little to realise that Storm murdered Hyperion so brutally. I never thought one Capitolian would have it in them to kill another like that. It seems so…so like something that would happen in the Games. As if Storm's brutal killing of Hyperion was a necessary means for survival.

"Are you okay?" I inquire. I know that she's not. I don't expect her to say that she is. But I want to know if she's alright here and now, with me. I don't want my presence to be intrusive for her, even if this is my room. District 13 is very new to Elethea.

"I just want to stay with you." Elethea curls close to me, reminding me momentarily of the child who won the 69th Hunger Games. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course," I respond, my heart swelling with love for her. Maybe nothing has changed, maybe everything has. But at least Elethea is here with me now, and she's safe.

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

"What's going on?" I barge into the room where Storm Asterbury, Gloss's Capitolian lover, is recovering from her wounds. According to the whispers, she was the one who killed Hyperion, before in desperation she turned the knife on herself. I examine her with interest – she's slim, and a lot plainer than most Capitolians, with brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Elethea Ambrose!" President Coin barks at me, marching over with her grey eyes flaring with anger. I tilt my chin up and meet her glare. "What are you doing in here? This is a restricted area. Did no one tell you…"

"I just wanted to see the Capitolian," I interrupt, watching as Coin clenches her jaw, displeased. Commander Paylor moves from where she is standing beside Storm's bed to whisper something in Coin's ear. The older woman nods curtly and leaves the room, throwing Storm a look as she goes. When the door shuts, I walk over and sit on Storm's bed.

"Is it true that you killed Hyperion?"

I need to know the answer for myself, although I think I already do. Storm was apparently betrothed to him, a prospect that I find sickening. She licks her dry lips and nods hesitantly, and I can see that she's wary of me. Here in District 13, the Capitolians are outnumbered, and they're the ones who feel unsafe and insecure.

"Gloss has been worried sick about you," I tell her, "At first, no one was sure whether you'd survive."

She drops her gaze to her lap, fiddling with her hands momentarily. Then Storm looks up, assessing me with a slight frown.

"You and Gloss are close?"

"Once." I shake my head. Gloss didn't mean what happened in the Capitol, but it would forever change things between us. "Relax, I've got no interest in him. Finnick's the only guy I have eyes for."

"Storm Asterbury." The young woman's voice comes out hoarse, and then she clears her throat. "I mean, that's my name."

"I know." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, thoughtful. I try and remember the things I've heard about Storm. Most of them are good. Some of them are painful, like the things that only befall Victors, but have now extended to this poor Capitolian girl. "I mean, I'm like Gloss. I'm one of those people who used to think Capitolians were all inherently evil...but I suppose you proved us all wrong. I hear Hyperion also made you miscarry a child."

Storm tenses. "He did."

"I suppose at least you can conceive." I smile at her sadly. "I can't have children, not ever."

"He…" Storm stumbles over her words. "Did he…"

"Rape me?" I ask, laughing mirthlessly. The words don't hurt me now, the thought of what he did. Hyperion is dead, and dwelling on the past won't do anyone any good. "Yes. He did."

I realise that this young woman could be useful to us. She's not the only Capitolian in District 13, but the more the merrier. All of them have betrayed Snow and their kind to fight with us, to rebel. Only, Storm's presence here is less certain. She came because she helped Gloss, and was injured in the process. I wonder what she plans to do once she recovers, and I find myself unable to help but ask.

"Will you help us fight back? Take down the Capitol?"

Her eyes burn with determination. "Yes. Yes, I will."

I'd so often thought that Capitolians were so different, that they couldn't understand the pain Victors are put through. But meeting Storm, I understand that some of them aren't like the others. She is a fighter. She would have killed herself before letting herself live in hell, and I feel that even though she has never experienced the Games, I _understand_ her.


	6. Turn Your Weapons

**Chapter Six: Turn Your Weapons**

* * *

**A/N: Finally an update :D This is a sort "calm before the storm" - but don't worry, we'll be getting back into the action soon enough.**

* * *

_"__Are you deranged like me, are you strange like me?_

_Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me_

_Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?"_

_\- Gasoline, Halsey_

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

District 13 is like a maze. It takes me a while to comprehend the levels, where things are. I find myself getting lost in the first few days, having to stop and ask for directions. But by the time I hear discussion about the fight for District 2 – the only district that hasn't joined in the resistance yet – I know exactly where President Coin's office is. She's not a woman I like or even trust, but unfortunately she's in charge around here, so all decisions have to go through her.

The clothing provided in District 13 is plain, fairly militaristic. I'm grateful for it, because for some reason it makes me feel comfortable. Hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, face devoid of even a scrap of make-up. I feel like I could be a soldier. I feel as though I'm not a child Victor and painted courtesan. I can forget I'm the girl who spoke on the Capitol's behalf. Well, almost.

"Elethea Ambrose." Coin smiles as I enter, but it doesn't reach her eyes. It never does. "It's good to see that you're well again. How are you settling in?"

"I want to come to District 2," I say without preamble. It should hardly be surprising – I'm from a Career district after all, although 4 joined in the resistance even before 1. To me, this fight feels more personal. I feel that I can relate to the people of District 2 more than Katniss Everdeen.

"No." Coin shakes her head slowly, and the hope that was rising within me sinks just as quickly. "You're not in a stable enough condition yet. You're still recovering from what happened to you in the Capitol…"

"You just said yourself I was well again," I argue. I know that Finnick would agree with me, that he would want me to do something to take my mind off the Capitol. Unfortunately, Finnick isn't here right now, so I have to speak for myself. "I want to help. I know what I said about the rebellion must mean that some people don't trust me. But I want to prove to them why they should."

"You are still mentally traumatised." Coin's voice was firm, and I could tell that there would be no making her change her mind. She seemed like a woman who, once she had an idea in her head, it was lodged there. "I can't risk it. I'm sure you understand that, Miss Ambrose."

I have to pick my battles, and this isn't one worth fighting. Although I might want to be there in District 2, there are more important things coming up. Like the Capitol. My hands clench into fists. That is a battle I won't back down from, no matter what. They were the ones who stripped me of everything I was. They took my innocence, my body, my _brother_. I will be there when they fall.

* * *

"What's up, Ambrose?"

It's Johanna, popping the 'p' in the word. She strides into my room and glances around. I've only seen her briefly since I arrived, but it's almost a shock again to remember that she had her head shaved. It only makes her look more fierce, though. She sits down on the edge of my bed and flops back. I know that she was tortured in the Capitol too, in worse ways than I can possibly imagine. Whatever I went through, it was mild in comparison with her torment.

But we Victors don't compare. We all go through hell, but hell has very different forms and faces. No one has it worse than anyone really, it just might seem that way because we haven't experienced that specific form of torment.

"They're not letting me go to District 2."

She gives a low whistle. "Harsh. Let me guess, they're telling you that it's safer for you here, that you're still getting over it?"

I don't reply. I don't need to. Johanna has pretty much said it, and I start to realise that other Victors are being treated the same way. Told that they haven't gotten over it, that they're not ready. I wonder if they're letting Finnick go, because I haven't seen him for a little while. I resolve to try and find him. Johanna clasps her hands behind her head and critically examining me.

"Sometimes I wonder if it would be the same for me, if I said yes."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"When President Snow tried to make me become a prostitute." She lets out a harsh bark of mirthless laughter, but I see the bitterness in her eyes. I know how the story goes, and I know how it ends. "Everyone knows if I'd said yes, I wouldn't have lost my family. But then I'd be like you, wouldn't I? Raped and abused by Capitolian men, over years…"

Johanna isn't afraid to say what's on her mind, and it's refreshing. I'm tired of everyone tiptoeing around the subject as if they're scared it will offend me, or upset me. Yes, I was sexually abused in the Capitol, since I was sixteen years old. But my primary tormenter is dead, and I was far from the only one who suffered through that. I no longer look at myself and see a victim. I see a survivor.

"Maybe," I murmur, then I raise my voice slightly. "But it's over now. For all of us. None of us will go through that torment again."

Johanna's lips twist into a smirk. "You're right. Because I'd rather die fighting the Capitol."

Sometimes I wonder if I would be Johanna if I had said no. My brother died regardless of my choice, but my mum is still alive. It's her I cling to sanity for. As much as I love Finnick, there is nothing quite like the unconditional love of a parent. She too has lost a lot. She's seen what I've gone through, and lost her youngest child. It's not just the Victors who feel pain, it's those who love them as well.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

"Have you told Elethea yet?" Haymitch asks as we wander into the canteen. I know exactly what he's referring to, and I shake my head. In truth, I've been avoiding her, because I don't want the topic of the Capitol to suddenly come up. I don't want her to know that I'm planning on heading in to fight, that we only need to wait and see what happens in District 2 first. I can't mention it, because she will want to come, and I won't want her to.

Neither will Rayne. The woman has been so thrilled to have her daughter back, and I think it would break her if she went off again, into a potentially lethal situation. Rayne doesn't deserve that. She's a strong woman, but everyone has their breaking point. I think if anything more happened to her daughter, Rayne would snap.

"No. I don't know if I'm going to."

"So what, you're just going to suddenly…not be here?" Haymitch sounded a mixture of annoyed and amused. "How do you reckon she's going to take that? I'll tell you, she's going to lose her mind. She'll be furious."

"Better furious than dead," I retort. I glance around the canteen, but I think Katniss and the others have already left for District 2. I wonder how they'll fare. Out of all the districts, 2 is the most loyal to the Capitol, and so they'll be the hardest to break.

"I'm just saying maybe you should explain it to her." Haymitch fiddles with his beanie. It's been hard for him too. District 13 doesn't exactly have a huge supply of alcohol, so he's been stone-cold sober for the past while.

I know that he's right, that instead of hiding things from Elethea, I should actually talk to her. But I'm worried about her mental state. I don't want to do anything that will push her over the edge. I know that she will get concerned about me if she learns that I'm going to the Capitol.

"Yeah, maybe you should." A familiar voice, cold as ice, makes Haymitch and I turn. Elethea is there with her arms folded over her chest and an unimpressed expression on her face. She's looking good, healthier than I've seen her in quite a while. Unfortunately, she's also looking pissed.

"El…"

"No, don't 'El' me," she snaps. "What are you two planning now? I bet it's something you don't want me knowing about. Why are you hiding things from me, Finnick? Don't you trust me?"

"I do," I say gently. Some part of me knew this would happen, that Elethea wouldn't understand why there are some things she doesn't need to know just yet. "Look, it's about the Capitol. Once we've taken District 2, that's our next target. I'm going to be part of the attack."

For a moment, she's stunned into silence, blinking rapidly as if trying to comprehend what I just said. Then her body language changes and I know exactly what she's going to say before she's even opened her mouth. Her chin tilts upwards defiantly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she examines me.

"Then I'm coming too." When I try and say something, she holds up a hand. "No. I don't want any more excuses about how I'm too fragile or how I need protecting. I can do this, I want to do this. It's everyone's chance for revenge, and it's mine too."

I understand how she feels. I heave a sigh. It's not up to me to decide what Elethea can and can't do. I'm her boyfriend, but I don't control her. She is her own person and no matter how much I might want her to be safe, too many people have trampled over her free will for me to do the same.

"You'll have to talk to Coin." I shrug my shoulders, but notice she's far less tense than before. She steps forward and puts her arms around me, and I hold her close, glad that the argument was over before it could even begin. There are far more important people to fight with. I just want Elethea to feel safe and free.

* * *

The fight for District 2 is a success. It did involve sealing the Nut permanently, but there was no other way to go about it, I guess. I don't dwell too much on it – I wasn't there, so I can't comment. Instead I focus on the present, on Elethea taking her hair out of its ponytail and letting her black waves fall down her back. She catches me looking and grins, wandering over and sprawling on my bed beside me.

My fingers entwine with hers. I'm glad that she's here with me, a solid presence whose warmth is always welcome. She presses her lips to our joined fingers, before slipping into my lap. Her lips find mine, almost hurriedly. Her hands skim down my chest, her kiss growing more fierce as I let my hands rest on her hips. I don't want to push her, but Elethea is moving fast, faster than she probably should be.

She takes my hands and puts them on her breasts. I grope at her gently, not wanting to do anything that will trigger unwanted memories. I can feel the heat rising within me, but I resist it. I have the feeling that Elethea won't go as far as she thinks she will. She presses closer against me and I twist a hand loosely in her dark hair. But her green eyes are uncertain, and I catch her hands.

"El…"

I know what she's doing. She's trying to push away the memories of what happened to her using sex, but it won't make her feel any better. She chews at her lip momentarily, considering, before she draws back and presses her face in her hands. I hold her close, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out.

"It's okay." I hold her to me and her shaking hands clutch at the fabric of my shirt. Her wet tears soak through, and my heart breaks for her, for us, over and over again. "You're safe with me. You always will be."


	7. Star Squad

**Chapter Seven: Star Squad**

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages, hopefully you can all forgive me :( I'm back on track with this story now - it's not going to be overly long, probably spanning only a little after the movie. But I'm really hoping that some of you are still with me for the final part of Elethea's journey - it's going to be an intense one!**

* * *

_"__All my friends are heathens, take it slow_

_Wait for them to ask you who you know_

_Please don't make any sudden moves,_

_You don't know the half of the abuse."_

_\- Heathens, Twenty One Pilots_

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

Lieutenant Jackson isn't impressed by Elethea joining our squad. I can see it in her dark eyes, the disapproval, the moment that Elethea walks over to join me, a gun in her hand. Perhaps it's just a mistrust of Victors in general. Maybe she feels that we're too volatile, too unpredictable, because of our hatred towards the Capitol for what they've done to us. I look at Elethea and see that loathing now. This is a broken young woman who has suffered repeated humiliating rapes, the death of her younger brother, the accidental murder of a boy she might have loved.

But I see more than that. I see her potential, even if Jackson doesn't. The man that Elethea wanted to kill the most is dead. She wants justice now, not vengeance. Maybe a bit of both, but she isn't going to do anything stupid. Of all the Victors here, it's not Elethea that I'm concerned about.

"She's small," Jackson remarks, raking her eyes disdainfully over Elethea's short stature.

"I've killed people twice my size," Elethea retorts. She lifts her chin and meets Jackson's gaze squarely. She won't be intimidated by this woman, second-in-command of Boggs's squad. I laugh to try and quell the tension, draping an arm around her shoulders.

"Elethea's bite is a lot worse than her bark, you can count on that."

Boggs comes and tells us what the go is. Elethea swallows hard when the nightlock pills are brought up and handed out, but we both know that they're necessary. Both of us would rather die than be captured by the Capitol. Once we're ready, we head into the Capitol following the train line. Smoke rises from the city buildings and I can't help but grin. It isn't the picture-perfect, much-envied centre of Panem anymore.

Elethea looks tired. She traipses on admirably, but I can see it in her eyes. Like me, she's wary about what sort of horrors could be unleashed if we accidentally trigger a pod. We've been in the Hunger Games twice, we don't really want a third version of it happening in the streets of the Capitol. I fall into step beside her as she takes out her water bottle and has a generous gulp.

"You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, Finnick." Elethea frowns tersely at me. I know she doesn't like being seen as weak, and I'm not trying to make her feel that way. I'm just concerned, and I hope she doesn't regret her decision to come along. Most of the other units have progressed ahead of us – they're the reason for the thick pillars of smoke, the distant sound of bombs and gunfire. We won't be doing any of the actual fighting…for the most part.

"Keep up, Ambrose, Odair," Jackson calls over her shoulder. Boggs is at the head of our unit at all times, holo in hand so that he can check out what's ahead. Cressida and her team are filming everything. As we enter the city itself, many buildings have been destroyed. The once pristine streets have turned into a warzone, littered with rubble.

"What do you think happened here?" Elethea asks, shielding her eyes from the sun as she takes everything in. "Do you think that lots of people died?"

"No." I shake my head. "They probably evacuated and headed for the city centre."

As much as I hate the Capitol, I don't blame all of them for what happened to me. Snow and his inner circle can die. But the rest of them are just sheep, following whatever they're told is right. Stupid, but they don't deserve to die for being stupid. Especially not when there are children among them.

But we aren't here to do damage. We're here for the Katniss Everdeen show, as I'm reminded when Cressida gets up close to her with the camera as the girl from District 12 triggers a pod by firing an arrow. There's a burst of flames and a military car slams down amidst the fire. I try and pretend I'm not affected, but it's like being in the Games again. Be careful where you step, because any footfall could be your last.

* * *

**Elethea's POV**

We're joined by Peeta Mellark, and it's a move I don't approve of or like. Peeta saw just how damaged I was in the Capitol, how far I fell. He still looks at me with pity in his eyes, and I hate him for that. I don't want his pity. Atrocious things happened to all of us, not just me. I don't need anyone's sympathy, because I'm going to rectify the crimes the Capitol have committed against me.

We rest when night falls, and I'm grateful for it because my legs ache. You'd think as a Victor you'd have an active life, but I've never walked as many miles as we have now. My thighs burn and my feet throb, and I'm happy for the opportunity to rest them, even if it's only for a few hours. I know I won't be able to sleep though. Maybe it's because of the bombs and gunfire in the distance, a noise that's become a constant. Maybe it's just because I hate everything about this place.

We set off again at the crack of dawn. I haven't been this vigilant since the Games, and it's not a good time. As we walk, Finnick helps coaches Peeta with what they want him to say for the propo. I remain silent as we search for a good place to shoot the propo. To me, it makes sense, but it's also stupid. We are heading through dangerous territory, and they want to shoot some film footage?

Cressida decides on a courtyard, an open space in the middle of several high-rise apartments. I still don't quite know what I think of her. She's a Capitolian, but she's on our side. Only…why? How does this benefit Cressida? She could have lived a comfortable life in the Capitol, but instead she chose this. She chose to rebel. I wonder if, like the rest of us Victors, she's battling her own demons.

A high-pitched insistent beeping on the holo alerts all of us to a pod in the vicinity. I take out my boomerang knives, and the feeling of the cold steel on my skin somehow makes me feel more alive again. I'm not powerless. I'm not helpless. I glance down at the knives, made especially for me by Beetee. I have a variety too – one of them even has a camera on it so that I can use it to scout ahead if the need arises.

We scramble behind the huge pillars and Boggs throw a rock between them. Immediately, machine guns emerge from inside the pillars, firing rapidly. Finnick looks very amused, and I scowl in his direction. This isn't a game, and it's not funny. Once the smoke clears, Boggs issues orders. We're still being very careful. I fall into step beside Finnick.

"Something doesn't feel right."

"We found the pod, El." He reaches across to rub my shoulder soothingly. "I know you're on edge."

My gaze is drawn to Peeta as he begins muttering under his breath. I know it's the conditioning the Capitol put in place kicking in, and him trying to fight it. I didn't see this side of him in the Capitol. I only saw him calm, composed. I want to reassure him, but I know that reaching out to him will be bad. I couldn't save Gloss from himself. It's a good thing he has Storm now to ease the burden of his guilt, because I still can't look at him the same way.

A loud explosion rips through the silence, and I jump. Finnick's right, I'm on edge, and now I know that I had every reason to be. The pod between the pillars wasn't the only active one in this area. Someone's on the ground, and everyone's yelling. I rub my arms as I hear the name they're calling. It's Boggs. He stepped on a mine.

He wasn't the only one – Leeg 2 is on the ground groaning in pain. She wasn't as badly injured as Boggs, but I can see the look in her twin's eyes. Her sister wants to go to her, to comfort and care for her. It makes sense. But it's also too dangerous. As Boggs dies in front of Katniss and Gale, Leeg 1 eases herself to her feet.

"Don't do it," I call out. "We need to clear the area first, make sure there aren't more pods."

Leeg 1 doesn't listen to me. I didn't really expect her to. Wouldn't I be doing the same, if it was Finnick or my mum on the ground? But as she runs across the bricks to her sister, one of them clicks and starts to descend. My fears are a reality. She's activated another pod. I press my hands over my mouth, mainly to stop myself from yelling curses at her. The huge stone doors surrounding the apartments creak closed, and something that looks like thick black oil hurtles down from over them.

I run. My instincts take over and suddenly, I'm fourteen and in the Games again, fighting for my life. I follow the others towards the door of the apartments, because only once we're inside will we be safe. I hear a commotion next to me, and whirl around as Peeta tackles Katniss to the ground. Mitchell hauls her off, but Peeta shoves him in the black oil. It only takes seconds for him to re-emerge, hung all in barbed wire.

Finnick seizes Peeta, and I know him well enough that I'm confident Peeta is in safe hands. I follow the others into the apartment, ascending the staircase as far as I can. Parts of the stairs are broken off, so we can't go much higher than a few floors. The black oil creeps up after, and my stomach twists in knots. It stops only a few stairs beneath us, before it begins to descend. I take a deep breath, the knot easing ever so slightly.

"Hey, El." Finnick catches me, spinning me to face him, eyes scanning over me. "Are you okay? You're not hurt."

I shake my head. "I'm not hurt."

He sighs in relief and kisses the top of my head, and I let him hold me close for a few moments. Then I draw away to go and check on Leeg 2 while the others argue over who should have the holo. I'm no medic, but a quick inspection of the injury makes me suck in my breath. The injured woman is going to slow us down. In the Games, she'd be an ally that you would kill out of mercy because you know they won't make it. But this isn't the Games. This is real life, and that's not my call to make.

"She can't move forward like this, her leg's too bad," Homes says when the others talk about moving. I chew at my lip, because I think I know how this scenario is going to play out. "We have to evacuate her. I'm sorry."

His last words are directed at her sister, who glances at the rest of us. "I'll stay with her."

It's a death sentence, but I don't want to say that aloud. By the time helps arrives, it'll be too late. I can only hope that the Leeg sisters manage to find some form of escape before the Peacekeepers arrive. Giving them one last glance, I follow the others down the stairs, careful not to slip. The black oil has left a shine to everything it's covered. I try not to look at Mitchell's corpse as we move, but my gaze is drawn to the bizarre, horrific sight.

It's like being in the Games all over again, death and destruction around me. I thought that I could handle this, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have stayed in District 13 until this is all over.

* * *

**Finnick's POV**

We spend the night in an abandoned apartment, which is more luxury than we've been accustomed to for the past few days. There's a rumbling sound below, and we all peer out through the thick curtains to see Peacekeepers converging on the area we were just in. There's an exchange of gunfire between the men in white and people in the building across from us. I know exactly who it is.

"It's the Leegs," I mutter.

The gunfire ceases quickly when one Peacekeepers launches a missile into the building. It collapses in flames and shattered glass and I draw back from the sight of it. Everyone else is just as shaken up. Elethea presses her hands over her mouth and tears well in her eyes, but she never sheds them. As a Capitolian broadcast begins, claiming that we're all dead, I head over to Elethea. She sits heavily in one of the chairs. She and I aren't as awed as the others – we've experienced a taste of Capitolian decadence, but at a brutal cost.

"Mum's going to think I'm dead," Elethea murmurs.

"Rayne is strong." I rest a hand on Elethea's arm. If there's one thing I know about Rayne Ambrose, it's that she is definitely where Elethea got her strength from. "She will push on and afterwards she'll be so thrilled you're alive. But we can't let her know, El. It's too risky."

Elethea's eyes flick towards the broadcast. "Sometimes I wonder…I wonder what it would be like if Leon were still alive."

It's a sore topic of discussion. I never bring Leon up around Elethea or Rayne, because I know how much it hurt them to lose him in the way they did. I smile and tenderly stroke back a strand of Elethea's dark hair. Leon would be in his late teens now, somewhere between Katniss and Gale in age. I know he'd be strong, almost as strong as his older sister is.

"He would be fighting right here alongside us." I kiss her cheek. "He is part of what you're fighting for."

There's a darkness lingering behind Elethea's eyes. That's the one thing that hit her the hardest. Since the age of fourteen, she has suffered countless atrocities – some that she's been forced to commit, some that have been committed against her, body and mind. But the death of Leon was the one thing that lingers. It's her hatred of the Capitol, the driving force behind her hunger for Snow's fall. They tried to make her their champion, but Elethea Ambrose will never be theirs.

"I know, Finnick. His death is something that I'll never forget, and that I'll never forgive."


End file.
